


Easily Worth

by withthekeyisking



Series: Sladick Fics [37]
Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Deal with a Devil, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Hurt Tim Drake, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul, Protective Dick Grayson, Rescue, Rimming, Slade being a bit of a bastard, SladeRobin Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27323491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: Dick is desperate to rescue his brother.Slade is...an option.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Tim Drake & Slade Wilson
Series: Sladick Fics [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1307747
Comments: 46
Kudos: 357
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	Easily Worth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blueberries_Pen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/gifts), [Whispering_Imp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispering_Imp/gifts).



> SladeRobin Week 2020 Day 7: Soulmarks | Meeting the Parents/Family | **Captive/Stolen Bride**
> 
> Blue and Imp, you guys mentioned this idea and it infected me and refused to leave, so this is dedicated to you!  
>   
>  ~~Was mainly away from electronics yesterday so this is a day late~~

Slade sits with a calm, blank expression, letting the kid speak without interruption. Grayson's heartbeat is impressively level, clearly making an effort to keep it so, and his voice remains calm and unhurried despite how desperate he must be.

Has to be, considering the subject and the fact that he's here asking for Slade's help at all.

He examines the kid while he speaks. He looks like he hasn't stopped moving in three days, hasn't slept in far longer. Running himself ragged trying to accomplish his goals, as is his usual way. Made all the worse when the job becomes personal.

Slade knew the instant he learned about what Ra's was up to that he'd be getting a visit from his favorite little bird. It was only a matter of time, how long it would take Dick to not only realize what he has to do, but accept the course of action and then actually get himself to go to Slade.

And now here they are, Grayson's demeanor impressively calm when he's sure the kid wants nothing more than to shout at him to just _help_ already, so they can get out of here and save the third Robin.

He gives nothing away while the kid speaks, refusing to let him know that he's already made up his mind. That he already has a price in mind, and it's not the copious amounts of money Grayson is prepared to offer him.

"So?" Grayson says when he's finally done.

Slade tilts his head, pretends to consider it. "Going against the League is a tall ask," he says. "Ra's isn't someone I want to have on my bad side if I can help it, especially not for something so... _personal_ to him."

Not even a lie; having Ra's al Ghul as an enemy is _not_ something Slade is eager to do, especially when he'd be stealing something incredibly valuable from the man. Ra's won't just let that go. Slade isn't _afraid,_ but it's still a hassle that he doesn't feel like dealing with unless he gets what he actually wants out of this. The kid is going to have to make this worth his while.

He wonders, idly, if Grayson has an idea for what Slade is going to want from him.

"Name your price," Grayson says seriously. He doesn't shift with nerves, doesn't even make a quip; he knows the urgency involved in all this. Knows what's probably happening to his little brother right now while they sit here and chat. Truly willing to give anything to save his family.

Slade withholds a smile; good.

He pushes himself to his feet, strolling across the room to close the distance between them. Grayson doesn't move, only tilts his head back to keep eye contact with Slade, not complaining when Slade looms over him, close enough to touch.

"What if I told you," Slade murmurs, leaning down so that his breath washes across Grayson's forehead, "that I don't want _money_ from you, kid."

Grayson's eyes flicker, but none of the rest of him does. "I would ask what you want instead."

Slade smiles. He braces a hand on the back of the kid's armchair and ghosts his mouth down the side of his face, along the curve of his jaw. Grayson holds perfectly still, and doesn't flinch when Slade finally captures his mouth in a searing kiss.

The kid stays still for a moment, long enough to be purposeful, before kissing back. Slade lets out an approving noise, one hand raising to cup the back of Grayson's head and thread his fingers through the black strands of hair.

After a minute, Slade breaks the kiss. He holds Grayson in place by his hair but leans back enough to look the kid in the eye again. Grayson's lips are red and slick, practically begging Slade to take them again, and his cheeks have a hint of redness to them, but his eyes are perfectly level.

"My price," Slade says, "is you. A night with you, Grayson. Any way I want you. And then I'll save Red Robin from Ra's. Do we have a deal?"

Grayson's eyes are narrowed, but he doesn't look overly surprised. Nor adverse, really. Just stressed. Maybe a little pissed off. But the kid came here ready to make concessions for his family; Slade doubts he's going to balk at selling himself to get his little brother out of the hand of the Demon's Head.

"We have a deal," Grayson says firmly. "But if you don't get Tim—"

 _"Relax,_ kid," Slade murmurs, smirking as he leans back in. "I'm a _professional."_

He kisses Grayson again, slow this time but no less forceful. Grayson parts his lips easily, allowing Slade to take command of the kiss. But for how easy that action was, the rest of him is almost painfully tense; hands clenched on the ends of the arms, shoulders stiff—like a man heading for the gallows.

Slade sighs and draws back, yanking slightly on Grayson's hair and drawing a hiss out of him.

"Look," Slade says. "Any way I want you, right? That way is definitely not as a block of wood."

Grayson blinks at him, and then seems to shake himself. "Sorry," he mutters, looking away. "I'm...it's just been a long couple weeks. You're right."

Slade hums thoughtfully. He stands up, pulling the kid up as well from the grip on his hair. Grayson grunts, shooting him a dirty look and leaning into the grip to lessen the strain. He doesn't fight when Slade uses it to guide him through the living room of his safehouse and into the bedroom.

"Strip," Slade orders, releasing the kid's hair, and then starts to remove his own clothing.

Grayson sets his jaw and does as he's told, removing his Nightwing suit, mask, and then underwear until he stands naked in front of Slade. Slade takes his time doing the same, admiring Grayson's revealed skin as he does so.

When all of his armor is removed, he steps up to the kid, stroking a hand down his back and delighting in the small shiver that pulls out of him. One hand drifts down and lands on Grayson's ass, squeezing, and Slade grins at the responding gasp, using the hold to yank Grayson against his front.

"On the bed, hands and knees," Slade purrs. "Ass up, kid."

Grayson swallows and nods shortly, pulling out of his hold to follow the instruction.

Slade feels arousal begin to stir as he watches the kid's firm backside shift into position, back arching appealingly. He can see the nerves setting in, now. The way the kid twitches when Slade climbs onto the bed behind him, the way his breath catches and then goes out of him in a shudder when Slade brushes his fingers over the swell of his ass.

Slade can't resist the urge to smile, and he takes Grayson's ass in his hands, squeezing the cheeks and then pulling them apart, humming at the sight of that tight ass just waiting for him. Grayson buries his face in the crook of his arm as if embarrassed.

Keeping his grip firm, Slade leans in and kisses his entrance, smirking at the way Grayson jolts in response. He delves his tongue in immediately after, delighting in the choked-off moan that rips out of the kid, doing it again and again until Grayson is gasping and jerking in his hold, hands curled into fists, tight on the sheets beneath him.

"There," Slade says once he's satisfied. _"That's_ better. Just needed to get a little warmed up, hm?"

He nips at the rim of Dick's ass, smirking when the kid yelps, and then reaches over to grab the bottle of lube sitting on the bedside table. He pops it open and grabs one of Grayson's hands, untangling his fingers from where they're clenched in the sheets and then squeezing out some of the lube onto them.

Grayson blinks up at him, face flushed and eyes dilated.

"Do this part yourself, kid," Slade instructs. "Get yourself ready for me."

Grayson swallows and nods, shifting on the bed to make it easier on himself and then reaching around, slipping a finger inside himself. Slade hums at the sight, watching Grayson pump the finger in and out, eyelids fluttering.

Slade shuffles forward, slowly enough to keep Grayson from startling, and settles in front of the kid on the pillow. He strokes himself leisurely, simply admiring the sight laid out before him as Grayson adds a second finger, and then rocks his hips forward, allowing the head of his cock to brush across Grayson's cheek.

Grayson's eyes fly open, looking up at him in surprise, and Slade smirks down at him as he pushes his cock into the kid's mouth in one long, smooth thrust. The kid chokes, twitching, but then clearly makes an effort to relax himself, even swallowing around Slade's length and pulling a groan out of him.

"That's right," Slade says with a breathless laugh. "Yeah, there you go, boy. There you go."

He thrusts his hips forward, forcing himself deeper into Grayson's mouth and throat, humming with pleasure at how the kid's body clings to him. He wraps one hand loosely around Grayson's throat to feel himself move, making them both groan.

From this angle he can watch Grayson's fingers slide in and out of his own ass as well, something he watches hungrily, enjoying the way those clever fingers speed up, the soft sounds of pleasure that escape the kid around Slade's cock, the way the kid rocks his hips back again and again, making himself feel good. Slade has no doubt that the kid's hard.

Slade releases his grip on Grayson's neck, instead placing his hands on either side of the kid's head and _yanking_ him roughly down his cock. Grayson spasms, choking again, but doesn't fight, allowing Slade to use him, fucking his throat roughly. Grayson's fingers—three, now—fall still, hanging out of his ass as he takes what Slade has to give him.

When Slade begins to feel himself getting close, he pulls out, releasing his grip on Grayson. The kid slumps against the bed, sucking in air, eyelashes clumped with tears as he blinks heavily. He looks utterly debauched, with bright red lips and shining eyes, and Slade doesn't waste any time in moving back down the bed to kneel behind the kid's raised ass.

He takes ahold of Grayson's wrist and pulls his fingers out of his ass, cock twitching at the sight of Grayson's slick entrance, ready for him. He lines himself up, one hand on Grayson's hip to keep the kid still, and when the head of his cock pokes at his hole, Grayson stirs faintly.

"You good, kid?"

Grayson shifts and hums, something Slade takes for confirmation since there's no fight. He begins to push inside, a low sound escaping him as the tight, wet heat grips at his cock. Grayson gasps underneath him, clenching down and ripping a groan from Slade's throat.

"Damn, kid," Slade says, grunting as he begins to thrust.

Grayson lets out a breathless laugh. It sounds slightly tinged with hysteria, but when Slade catches sight of his face he doesn't look upset, so Slade ignores the sound, instead starting to fuck into the body under him, one hand bracing on the kid's shoulder to keep him in place.

The kid is a sight as he falls apart underneath him. Watching him shudder and moan, slowly lose himself to the sensations and get pulled out of his own head—gorgeous. Something Slade has every intention of seeing many more times in the future.

When Slade comes, he does it buried as deep as he can get, bending over Grayson's body and worrying a hicky into his neck with his teeth.

"...Okay," Grayson pants after a little while. "Alright. So we're...good."

Slade laughs softly and presses a kiss to the nape of the kid's neck. He can already feel himself getting hard again.

"I said a _night_ with you, Grayson," he says. "Not a _round._ We're far from done."

Grayson shudders, and Slade likes to think it's from pleasure instead of foreboding. Not that it makes a difference.

* * *

Tim runs through a breathing exercise for about the thousandth time in a row, trying to get ahold of himself.

He's going on Hour Four by himself now, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. Good, because any time he gets away from Ra's allows him to breathe, to relax for maybe a _minute._ It's relieving to not have to deal with the man's presence, and what his presence often leads to. Relieving to be able to just sit and read a book without having to worry about anything else happening.

But being alone for so long is also a bad thing, because one of two things begins to happen—either he starts coming up with a new plan for escape (destined to fail, sure to end with Ra's punishing him for the attempt, harsher and harsher each time) or he starts panicking about the fact that he's enjoying the time alone, and worrying about when Ra's is going to return.

It's been a hard couple weeks, and it's really starting to mess with Tim's head, if it hadn't from the beginning. He was stupid to get caught by Ra's, and since then he's been working his ass off to try to get himself out, but nothing works. Ra's has him watched twenty-four-seven, and most of the time is right by his side as well. This place is a _fortress_ to top it off—so basically all of the forces conspiring together against him.

He doesn't want to be here any more. He doesn't want Ra's to keep looking at him the way he does, like he's an amusing possession. Doesn't want him to keep _touching_ him the way he does. Doesn't want him to keep...

It's exhausting. Tim wants _out._ And it's only been a short period of time, but honestly he's already run out of faith that he's going to get himself out of here. Ra's has him locked up tight, and that's not going to change until Ra's thinks he can trust Tim to not try to go anywhere. Which won't be for a long, _long_ time.

Tim doesn't know if he can hold out that long.

So, breathing exercises. The ones he used to use whenever he'd get panic attacks, and would help him center himself. Helps him now, keeps himself calm in the lion's den.

There's a thud outside the door, then another, and then a wet sliding noise.

Tim pushes himself to his feet, eyes casting around immediately for a weapon, clenching his jaw when he—for the millionth time while living here—comes across nothing. Books and random knickknacks that can do in a pinch, but with the cumbersome clothing he wears, he'd really prefer an actual weapon for whatever's approaching.

He doesn't have much time to think it over, because then the door is pushing open, and Deathstroke the Terminator is standing before him, blade drawn and red with blood.

Tim's heart speeds up in his chest. His eyes dart down, and he sees the two guards who'd been standing outside the door now on the ground lying dead. A thrill of excitement begins to flood him, and he forces himself to contain it, instead looking at Deathstroke levelly.

This seems to be going in his favor, but jumping to conclusions will only lead to disappointment, and Deathstroke is quite the threat; he can't risk getting his hopes up if the mercenary isn't here in a pleasant capacity.

"Hey, kid," Deathstroke greets, tilting his head. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Tim's cheek heat, and he lifts his chin, refusing to be made to feel embarrassed. Ra's is a...traditionalist, and has enjoyed dressing Tim up in any way that suits his fancy. The clothing is ridiculous, and not at all styled for fighting, and he's hated every second of it.

"Why are you here?" he demands instead of answering, fingers tightening around the book in his hands.

Deathstroke sweeps his blade out to the side. "This is a rescue, Drake. Time to go."

Tim debates for only a third of a second before he's rushing towards the door; he would _far_ rather take his chances with Deathstroke than staying here with Ra's.

"Wise choice."

The mercenary leads the way back through Nanda Parbat, moving quickly and quietly, having them conceal themselves to avoid passing groups. And Tim's heart thuds painfully hard, but he refuses to feel hope, not even when they're _outside,_ not until he's sitting in the passenger seat of Deathstroke's car and speeding one hundred miles per hour away from the base that's been his prison for the past couple weeks.

They say nothing through the drive, and for the first hour of the plane ride once they arrive at the airfield.

It's only then that it _truly_ begins to sink in, and Tim's breath goes out of his in a whoosh, legs buckling; if he wasn't already sitting, he surely would've dropped right there. He's actually out. He's _actually out._

Tim turns to look at his savior, swallowing. "You...why?"

Deathstroke glances over at him, lips curving in amusement. "You should thank your brother, kid. He hired me to get you out."

Dick. Of course Dick did. Thank _fuck._

Tim nods numbly, barely taking that information in. He's out. Ra's can't touch him anymore.

The mercenary eyes him. "Why don't you pass out, kid? We've got a long flight ahead of us, and you look ready to crash. Might do you some good. Hell, I might even sedate you if you don't."

Tim just nods again, too exhausted to have a reaction to the threat of being drugged. "Right, yeah. Good idea."

"Good," Deathstroke says, turning his attention back to the flight controls. "Oh, and kid?" Tim sees a smirk tilt the man's expression. "You be sure to tell your brother he's welcome to pay me like that any time he wants to."

Too tired to ask what the hell that means, Tim closes his eyes and lets sleep take him.

* * *

It's not even half a day later that Slade's phone gets an alert for a potential contract—

It seems Ra's wants his lost little bird back.

Slade can't help but be amused; _this_ could be a fun back-and-forth to participate in. Especially if Grayson is willing to use himself as currency again.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all folks! Forgot to write my Day 8 fic lol so we're gonna end here instead XD I hope y'all enjoyed my SladeRobin Week fics! I certainly enjoyed sharing them with you :)


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